Tuesday, July 28, 2009

J, KC, The Nard Dog, and Me.

There are three sure-fire ways to get me out of a funk:

1. J, Husband Extraordinaire.



When I explained to J last night that I was feeling blue, he immediately sprang into action.

"What can we do to make you feel better?"

I thought about it for a moment, and then told him that we needed to clean the bedroom.

(Oh, super fun!)

But lo, the bedroom needed to be cleaned. And I needed to get organized. Cuz in the midst of my blues? Leaving the country next week (!). We're going to Buenos Aires and Montevideo (!!). Poor little depressed girl, must dutifully travel to South America. Don't you feel sorry for me?

This trip really sneaked up on us, though. So J, bless his heart, helped me sort the laundry and then, that man went and put it in the machine. I unpacked our bags from the NY trip. I straightened the bureau, and J dusted. Then we sat on the bed and made the Argentina list. As well as a list of cards and gifts that are PAST DUE. (Sorry, Koos. I really do love your baby. I'm just an asshat.)

Once we were organized, I felt I could breathe again. I ate some cherries on the couch and passed out during House Hunters International.

I slept more soundly last night than I have in weeks. It was glorious.

This morning I woke at 6, prepared a no-carb breakfast of eggs and turkey bacon, made some coffee, and then sent an email to Koos: how GOOD is coffee? Also, I watched Chelsea Handler. What of it? She is an irreverent beacon of delicious sarcasm and snark. LOVE.

At 7 I retreated to the office, and I filed and organized my desk while listening to Kelly Clarkson. Internet? Listen to Kelly Clarkson. KC = sublime happiness and productivity. You can imagine I was already feeling good and energetic, when my amazing husband sent me this email:

Subject: Start the day off right!

“They say you should never mix business with pleasure. Really? Well then explain to me how a putt-putt golf company operates.”

- Andy Bernard

And that is why, friends, I don't need anti-anxiety meds. I have J, KC, and the Nard Dog.

And happy hour! With dear friends Grace and JM (JM - don't you already have a pesudonym on this blog? Please advise.) Did I ever tell y'all about the first day of high school? Koos and I arrived and I believe we only had one or two classes together. (Koos? Please advise.) So I spent the first day observing the other chicas to determine whom I would deign to be friends with. (Er, or whom I thought might like my skinny, be-braced, nerd self.) And Grace and JM were the big winners!

I'm pleased as punch that 15 years later, we still can get together to drink cheap beer carb-conscious club soda and recall the old times.

It is going to be a good day.


Grace said...

If JM hath no name already, me vote for Ms. Elizabeth Lavenza. Or her WSS name (I forget which of the whores she was...).

Homevalley said...

I don't know "Ms. Elizabeth Lavenza", but I do know WSS. Velma, was it?

Or how about "Mr. Patterson"?

Grace said...

Oh daaaamn, someone doesn't remember her 19th century English literature. If Macbeth's balls could see you now!

(Victor Frankenstein's wife... AaaaaaaLIZABETH LA-VENZAAAA); or Mr. Patterson.

Anonymous said...

Eliizzzzaaabethhhh Laaaavennnzzzzaaaaaa.....

I can go with Velma or my alias: Anastasia Covington. Convington of course coming from Ben Covington of Felicity fame. Oh how I love you Scott Speedman!

Anonymous said...

Mr. Patterson? Really? At least let my alias be a ladies name. Mrs. Dickerson maybe?

Homevalley said...

Get out of my head, Mr. Patterson! I was totally thinking yesterday about how I would want JJ Abrams at my ultimate dinner party, but if I invited him, I'd have to invite the entire cast of Felicity. Because I want to hug Keri Russell, squeeze Greg Grunberg, and make out with Scott Speedman. He is delicious!

Grace said...

It is Mr. Patterson, right? It better be.